They'll Bring No Flowers
by retwin
Summary: When you stop running and you have a moment's respite from the situation you can open up and learn to trust.
1. Chapter 1

Title: They'll Bring No Flowers

Author: Sidnea Blackstone

Summary: A discussion that should have happened, but didn't.

She wasn't asleep her breathing was all wrong and her eyes weren't closed because he could feel them on him almost as tangibly as if they were her hands. He ignored her for the first forty minutes; after all she needed to sleep and he needed to finish these passports before his intellect melted away and started dripping from his nose.

"You got something on your mind, Doc?" He saw her flinch in fright at the sound of his voice; she had been doing that a lot. He would have to watch her closely for other signs of post-traumatic stress these last few days had been hard on her. She was used to microscopes and cultures and examination rooms not bullets, assassination squads and running for her life.

"You-," she stammered, "You said the recruiter added twelve points to bring your IQ up to the Army's minimum."

"Yeah," he answered even though she had not framed a question.

"But that would mean—," she started and then stopped embarrassed.

"That I was not about to give Einstein a run for his money," he joked lightly, but it hurt bone deep to think about his pre-Outcome self and the fact that the Doc was digging around in this little wound felt like a wire brush on road-rash.

"You have to understand," she pushed herself up to sit at the foot of the bed. "The breakthrough we made with the Blue trials was astonishing science and when saw the tremendous improvement, in Subject Number Five's IQ, a nearly 70 point increase, we knew the science was complete. We base-lined the study using Five's results and now," she laughed her face alight with excitement, "Now, to discover that it was actually an increase of more than eighty points. Do you have any idea what subject results like this could mean?"

He continued to work as she talked and the excitement in her voice was palpable, but he could not help but notice that she had slipped from speaking about him to speaking about Number Five. "You read a lot."

"Wh—what," she stammered confused by the non sequitur.

"Books," he clarified, "You must read a lot do you read many books?"

"I," she frowned, "I suppose I do."

"Well, I didn't," he fiddled with the wires attached to the disposable camera. "At least not 'til after the Blues," At her widened eyes he smiled and hurried on shaking his head as he worked, "I could read but I did not really comprehend a lot of what I read; understand?"

He glanced in her direction and watched her nod, "yes."

"Have you ever met any of the Governmental big-wigs," he asked as he went back to his work authenticating the passport in front of him.

"A few," she answered, sounding bemused by the conversation shift. "I had to do a few fundraising dinners in Washington to raise money to keep the program up and running."

"How about a guy named Col. Eric Byer," he asked as he worked. "He is retired now but he remains a prick in and out of uniform."

"Yes," she frowned, "I think I spoke with him and his wife at a charity dinner last Christmas, but I had no idea he was part of the program."

"That," Aaron said as he set her passport aside and pulled out his, "Is really funny because he is what some might call my handler but I guess when you are using cutting-edge science to reprogram soldiers to become killing machines it isn't something you talk about at a polite dinner party."

"Aaron," she murmured, but he continued as if she had not spoken.

"About three months ago I was on a raid that went sideways," he worked as he talked, his voice becoming soft as he remembered that day, "A lot of innocent people ended up dead and I was the one on the other end of the rifle…kids, Doc, and women."

Aaron put aside his tools and wiped his hands down his face trying to erase what had been forever etched in his brain and projected onto the back of his eyelids. It was impossible to escape because it was part of him now, like the Green had become part of him. Opening his eyes he studied the palm of his hand where a scar should have been but wasn't.

"He knew I had done something that sickened me and I was questioning what we were doing and Byer came out to the field to give me his idea of a pep-talk; which, pretty much, consisted of, you're here to eat shit so pick up that spoon soldier."

Marta shifted where she sat; the idea that her work had been used not to safe, but to destroy was becoming an uncomfortable fact gnashing at her brain. Turning toward her he could see that his words were upsetting her, but she had buried herself in that lab long enough. She needed to see the test subjects, see him, for what they are—Human.

"He asked if I knew what a sin-eater was; I lied," Aaron rolled his eyes at Byer's stupidity and continued, "I told him I didn't. I realized early on that it worked to my advantage if he thought he was smarter than me" Aaron laughed, "Told me that we are sin-eaters and he believed I was dumb enough not to know what he was talking about. What a stupid fuck; there was nothing ritual or self-sacrificing about what happened that day. He was spinning a web of shit and he expected me to eat it up. After that rousing speech he sent me on my way and told me to sew up my hand."

Her gasp stopped his words for a moment and he sighed at the tears shining in her chocolate colored eyes. She was finally seeing him for what he was, though, and he could not stop until he was one hundred percent sure she would not confuse him for a number again. "A few days after you finished your initial post operation exam I got a book in the mail; byer sent it. It was a story about a rat and a man that are given intelligence because of a scientific breakthrough. Do you know the one I'm talking about?"

"Flowers for Algernon," she whispered.

"Yeah," he nodded, "Only they won't be bringing any flowers if I start to regress." He wondered if she could hear the fear that thought put into his soul. Shaking off the blackness that threatened to over shadow him he told her, "Anyway, it, the book was a very subtle threat but I ignored it that day when I came in for the check-up. You seemed so—pleased that my hand had healed and I needed—I needed…"

"What," she asked her voice husky with unshed tears, "What did you need?"

Aaron had needed to know he was more than a laboratory rat someone would bury in a shoebox in the backyard. He studied her for a moment and shook his head letting a slight smile soften his next words, "I'm not just a science project, Doc."

The sob that tore from her throat was painful to hear and her eyes showed her horror at what she had become. Covering her mouth with her hands she squeezed her eyes shut. She could not look him in the eyes right now. She had treated him like an animal, no worse than that, like a number. She was trembling so hard that she was surprised the rest of the world wasn't shaking apart around her. Aaron moved quickly to kneel in front of her and take her hands.

"Hey, Doc," he murmured and gently rubbed his thumbs over her inner wrists. "Shhh," he soothed.

"What have I done," she gasped and when she saw him there at her feet, his face full of concern, she had to get away. Pulling her hands free she tried to evade him, but he wouldn't let her escape.

"You helped me," Aaron answered, earnestly. "You gave me a chance at a normal life. The others they might have moral qualms about what you did to them, but you opened my eyes and gave me something I never thought I would have."

"What," she asked bitterly, "bullets flying around your head?"

"Nah," Aaron shook his head, "that was a given the day I joined the Army, Doc."

Standing he pulled a chair over and sat in front of her. "You are a dedicated scientist and I know you want to help people."

"The science is," she shook her head. "I really believed it would be used to improve the quality of life of every human being; once it was thoroughly vetted…Not just the soldiers in the program."

"I know," he nodded.

"What happened after the check-up?"

"I went off-the-grid for a few days," Aaron sighed. "When I came back they locked me in the brig for a few weeks and then when they figured I had learned my lesson they dropped me in Alaska for a two week survival exercise with only enough Chems to make it one week."

"How did you," she asked eyes wide.

"I rationed them," he shrugged, "took half a pill every other day and when I made it to the cabin I scammed the watcher into giving me a few more. I take the last half in the morning."

"Are you sure," she asked, "that you want to do this?"

"They took everything from me," he could not keep the emotion from his voice as he thought about what they had asked him to do, "From both of us. It is time they gave it back."

Uncomfortable with the amount of emotion he allowed to show Aaron stood up and moved back to the table to finish the passports. Glancing at the clock he gestured toward the bed, "You should get some sleep, Doc, tomorrow is going to be a very long day."

"Okay," she nodded and slid backward onto the bed, "Good night."

"Night, Doc, " He murmured as he watched her settle onto her side facing him, but this time her eyes were closed and her breathing was less erratic. It did not take long for her to fall asleep this time and Aaron was glad of that, because Dr. Marta Shearing made him feel a little too intense and right now they needed his mind one hundred and ten percent on getting them out of this mess alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Wakefulness came with a sigh as Marta blinked blurry chocolate eyes in the dimly lit hotel room. Her body had that deep contented feeling that you only got from really great sex or the first secure night's sleep after a trusted colleague turns out to be Uncle Sam's choice for your executioner. Marta would never have thought she would sleep so well on the heels of two hellish days, but Aaron made her feel safe.

Stretching to dispel the last of the drowsy comfort from her body Marta turned over and her eyes immediately searched for and found her protector sitting in the same chair he had used last night while working on their passports.

At first, she thought he might have been dozing but his grey eyes glinted pensively in the weak light from under the curtained window as he stared into his cupped hand. After a moment Aaron lifted his hand to his mouth and Marta watched as his tongue came out to lap at his palm. The haunted look in his eyes as he met her gaze across the room made her heart twist painfully in her chest.

Kicking the hotel blanket to the foot of the bed, he must have covered her up last night after she fell asleep, Marta moved to kneel in front of Aaron taking his hands and stroking him as he had done hers last night. "It will be enough," she murmured.

"It was hardly more than a few granules of crushed pill, Marta."

She could tell that he was worried the miniscule dose would have very little effect on him and she had to admit the fact that he had been on an up and down scale might complicate matters, but right now he needed to hear that his doctor believed the dose would be sufficient. "Some is better than none," she squeezed his hand as she continued. "Besides we'll arrive in Manila in plenty of time to administer the viral dose."

His fingers tightened on hers and Aaron searched Marta's eyes for what felt like a very long time, but was really only a few heartening moments before he nodded and released her hands. "I went down to the lobby and picked up the free breakfast that came with the room; it isn't much but we'll need to eat when we can because there will be times when stopping for food will be impossible."

Marta stood up and smiled as she saw the neatly spread table. A napkin was laid out before the extra chair and a roll with ham, boiled egg and banana were lined up in front of a cup of coffee. "This looks better than the breakfast in a bag I usually have in the morning."

"It should," Aaron frowned, "Most fast food is toxic, Doc."

"Well," she quirked a brow in his direction as she admitted. "Fast food is not nearly as dangerous as eating something I cooked." She laughed as she doctored her coffee and took a sip, "Now, this is toxic! Where did you find this stuff; it tastes like battery acid."

"You caught me," he chuckled as he picked up his own cup and took a sip, "They were out of coffee downstairs so I drained the car battery."

"You are a smart ass," she shook her head with an amused smile.

"So, I have been told," he grinned. "When we finish eating we need to head out. I booked us on a flight that stops in Nevada before heading to the Pacific."

"Do we have many stops," she asked as she peeled her banana.

"Only the one in Las Vegas," he looked at his watch and then glanced around the room. "Except the table the rest of this room has been wiped clean. While you are taking a shower I will finish cleaning in here."

"Why," she asked. "They are sure to confirm the d—dead woman isn't me, soon enough, it isn't as if we could hope to fool them into believing I am dead."

"They already know you aren't dead," he confirmed, "But they probably don't have a clue as to why not, yet. Most scientists are not a match for a CIA hit squad, after all, but you not only escaped alive but left four bodies to sift out of the ashes. We cannot take the chance that they won't track you to this hotel. The minute they figure out I am involved they will send in another Outcome agent, unless they killed everyone but me; which, seems completely possible considering the way they kept coming for me in Alaska. Our only advantage is keeping them from ever being able to pin us to a place."

"What time is out flight," she asked, quietly.

"In three hours," he informed her as he pulled a folded cloth from his jacket pocket and unfolding it to reveal a pair of thick rimmed glasses. "Wear these and don't pull your hair back, let it hang around your face. I never saw you with your hair down in the lab. It is a quick easy way to disguise you without having to dye your hair."

"Thank god for that," she smiled as she took the glasses from his hand, "What about you?"

"They don't know I am still alive," he informed her, "So, I will travel separate from you."

"That doesn't answer the question of your disguise," she frowned.

"If they discover me," he explained, matter-of-factly, "Then they discover me," he shrugged, "Who knows it might split their attention and give you a chance to get away."

"So," she frowned as he explained, "You are going to walk around an international airport with no disguise what-so-ever?"

"You are the one they will be publishing photos of in the local paper with an appropriately alarming headline." Aaron shook his head, "People are going to know who you are."

"Th—then I would rather stick together," she told him with a twinge of hysteria in her voice.

"You don't need to worry," Aaron assured her as he leaned forward and grasped her hand. "I will be watching out for you. That being said," he pulled another object from his pocket. "Keep this on you and remember you can't call your sister; it would make her an easy target."

Marta nodded and took the phone from his hand. "I am going to take a shower," she stood up and pulled a few items from her bag. At the door to the bathroom she turned back to him and whispered, "Thank you, Aaron, for coming for me."

"I'll always come for you, Doc," his voice was firm as he added, "That is a promise."


	3. Chapter 3

It started out as a tickle, just a feathering at the back his mind, and was a full-fledged itch by the time the plane touched down in Manila. The most frightening part of realizing that the itch, crawling through his skull, was his brain's reaction to the lack of Blue in his system was the realization that the nagging feeling was not new to him. It had been there in varying degrees since Alaska. The Chems must metabolize very quickly; which meant his mind was already beginning to break down.

Pinching the bridge of his nose to try and resist the urge to scrape and scratch at his brain, Aaron smiled at the customs officer and murmured an inane response, in the local dialect, to the man's questions and then accepted his passport and shouldered his pack. Moving quickly to the Manila side of the room Aaron glanced at their surroundings before choosing a spot that kept Marta in his line-of-sight, but himself off the cameras and casually slipped into the shadowed area to wait for the Doc to finish with customs.

Marta sighed heavily as she finally made it through the gate into the Manila side of customs. Aaron had finished a good fifteen minutes before her; a fact that made her the tiniest bit jealous. Their lines had been the same length and there were even the same number of people in front of them, but he had breezed through international red-tape as if he were a slalom skier.

"I bet they taught a class," she muttered as she clutched her bag to her chest and stifled a giggle, "Smoozing custom officials 101."

"Actually," an amused voice said from her left as a warm hand grasped her elbow, "It was called Foreign Relations: How Diplomacy Can Greatly Reduce Collateral Damage."

"Oh, god!" She jumped nearly ten feet in the air and then turned to glare at the man steering her through the crush of people and out onto the sidewalk. "Stop doing that," she ordered as she tried to calm her racing heart, "You are a menace, and you need a bell around your neck."

"You walked right past me, Doc." He laughed as he hailed a taxi, "I almost held up a sign with a giant number five on it, but I was too slow."

Marta scowled as he turned to barter with the taxi driver and then help her into the backseat. He had not let her forget the whole number five thing, but he didn't seem angry or hurt by it just sort of bemused. Once Aaron was seated beside her and the taxi was whizzing dizzily through the city she sighed, "Are you ever going to let me live that down?"

"Sure, Doc," he grinned, as he settled more comfortably beside her. "It isn't like you called me Algernon."

"No, I worked very hard to insure the science wouldn't fail you or the other program subjects."

"You did good work, Doc! Maybe not the most morally defensible work, but you are an incredibly intelligent vir—," Aaron paused and shook his head and cleared his throat before continuing, "virologist."

"Thank you."

"No problem," he assured her.

"Where are we headed," she asked after the silence crowded into the small back seat of the taxi, "Aaron?" she said louder when he didn't respond.

"Hmm," he asked, but the vague look that glazed his normally alert eyes frightened her a little.

"I asked where we are going."

"Oh," he blinked and when his gaze met hers again it was Outcome agent sharp, "The factory."

"But it is night," Marta gasped, frightened. "I have never been here at night Aaron and I don't know the rules."

"There are no rules, Doc." He turned toward her and met her frightened gaze, "You belong there. Just remember that. This is just a normal business trip."

"Normal," she murmured, turning to look out the window at the city flying by outside, "There is nothing normal about this trip."

"Hey," Aaron's voice was deep and warm as she felt his fingers gently slide over her hand and tangle with hers. "Life isn't normal, Doc, it is complicated and messy."

"I hate messy," she turned imploring eyes on him, "That was why I liked science in the lab I knew what to expect. It was outside that nothing ever seemed to have a predictable outcome."

"I figured that out," Aaron assured her, "It was the fourth time we met. I didn't come in as soon as I arrived I watched for a few hours before I went inside."

"Why," she asked confused.

"I only ever saw a few select people at the lab," he shrugged, "I wanted to know everything. I knew the chems were making me over and I knew sooner or later they would use that as an incentive to continue my mission."

"You planned to steal them," she asked.

"If I had to," he nodded, rubbing his face hard with his right hand.

"What did you learn," she frowned, "You didn't know the chems weren't made on site."

"Mostly," he gave her the leering smirk he always used in the lab and his voice took on that same teasing lilt, "that you are like the absent minded professor outside the lab; that day it took you ten minutes to find your badge at the gate and you made three trips back to your car before you made it inside the building. I couldn't reconcile the 'you' I was seeing with the cool, confident and well put together doctor I knew from the lab."

"Is that why you watched me," she asked slightly disappointed, "In the lab?"

"Partly," he agreed and his smile widened as her face showed her disappointment. Leaning into her he spoke his lips brushing the shell of her ear, "Mostly, though, I was trying to get your attention. It was the only mission I ever failed."

Marta felt her skin prickle as his lips, breath and voice slid over her like a caress. Her heart rate increased; he was so close and his thumb was resting on her wrist stroking the sensitive flesh there. Before Marta could pull her mind out of the haze that began to envelop it the taxi came to a jolting stop and Aaron was pulling away.

The next few minutes were a blur for Marta and it didn't become perfectly clear until she was kneeling at Aaron's feet ready to stick a needle in his arm; she hesitated and lifted confused eyes to his. When he realized she wasn't injecting him Aaron looked down at her and she could see his utter peace with the decision to let her infect him. He could die, but he was brave enough to go through with it anyway so that they would have the advantage. When she looked back at his arm and placed the needle against the skin she hesitated again and this time Aaron covered her hand with his and when their eyes met he whispered a grateful, "Thank you."

It was absolution and encouragement wrapped in gratitude. It was that moment that she actually believed that he would come for her no matter what and they would make it out of this nightmare alive and well. Together.


	4. Chapter 4

The air was heavy with heat and moisture, dispelling the theory that the temperature drops when the sun goes down, and making the physical exertion of helping Aaron up the stairs feel like they were swimming through molasses. The virus hit him less than a block from the factory, his temperature spiking making his flesh burn against her fingers. The ambient temperature felt like a cool breeze in comparison, but he had pushed on until they were several blocks away from the chaos they had unleashed.

Aaron pulled away from her and stumbled to lean back against a grimy building. He was incoherent, unaware of her or anyone else around him and that was a dangerous circumstance to be in when there was god only knew how many people out there looking for them. Glancing around worriedly, Marta noticed they were only a short distance from a motel; it looked as rundown as the rest of the city, but it would be private and with luck there would be a supply of water and a place for Aaron to lie down.

"Aaron," she said firmly as she cupped his flushed cheek. "Aaron…"

He mumbled in response and Marta stroked his damp face asking in confusion, "What?"

"Kenneth Kitsom," he answered.

He was delirious and by the feel of his skin his temperature was rising to a seizure inducing high. "I'm going to get us a place to sleep," she murmured, "Don't move."

It wasn't easy bartering with the woman in charge of the hotel; Marta was not familiar with the language except for the absurdly basic and the woman was a little too nosy for their good. Despite some slight misgivings Marta hurried back to Aaron with a slightly bent key, to a room without a view and two meager bottles of water that cost as much as a bottle of wine in the United States clutched tightly in her hand. If she'd had the money Marta would have bought ice, but that was a luxury they couldn't afford.

Aaron was exactly where she left him and Marta sighed with relief; she had been almost certain he would wonder off while she secured a room for them, but instead he seemed to be out on his feet surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke and exuberant Asian youths.

"I found us a room," she told him as she wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled one of his over her shoulder.

"Is this a test," he muttered as she struggled with his added weight and lack of motor skills.

"Shh," she soothed as she helped him up the stairs in a painfully slow climb. Marta felt her heart jerk as she met the gaze of the nosy manager. It was a good thing they would only be here one night because the woman was too interested in them and that could only lead to something bad. "We're almost there."

The room was dim, the only light was from a bare-wire bulb, and the walls were depressingly dingy, but there were two beds and a sink. Helping Aaron to the bed that sat against the far wall Marta turned on the tap and was gratified to have water, even rusty looking water, rushing from the pipes. There was no stopper in the rusting sink and the only washcloths available were so thread-bare that each washcloth was practically see-through. Sighing, she dampened one and moved to Aaron's bed. Bathing his forehead with the cloth Marta was scared by how fast the cool, damp cloth became hot.

"Is this a test," he mumbled, frowning as she shushed him again.

Marta moved away and wet the cloth with fresh cool water. Returning she found his glassy gaze locked with hers as he rasped out, almost desperately, "Is this a test?"

"No," she murmured soothingly as she laid the cool damp cloth on the back of Aaron's neck and his head sagged forward listlessly. "Aaron," she cupped his face in her hands and lifted it until she could see the delirious depths of his grey eyes. "Oh, you're burning up…This isn't working fast enough."

Glancing around the room Marta noticed a fan on the ceiling and let out a grateful sigh. Stepping away from Aaron to search for the switch Marta found herself trapped. Aaron's hands grasped almost painfully at her hips and the panicked tone of his voice held her immobile, but it was the hopeful look in his eyes as he spoke that made tears spring to her eyes. "Is this a test; If I p—pass can I stay?"

"Yes," she gasped, her heart was throbbing almost painfully as she assured him he could stay, "You can stay."

"Thank you," he murmured, groggily and pressed his face into her belly for a brief moment before he pulled away and lay down on the bed, "Thank you."

Marta choked back a sob and quickly turned away from Aaron, using the search for the ceiling fan's switch as a diversion to hide the embarrassing tears that refused to stay safely hidden behind her eyes. Finding the switch she flicked it and was relieved to feel the dilapidated thing stirring the air above them. Finding a second washcloth Marta first dried her eyes and then used it to stopper the sink. It would not hold the water for long, but it would give her a basin to bath Aaron from.

Going back to the bed she lay the cool cloth on his forehead, but the heat radiating from him was such that she knew she needed to cool him down or he might not survive. He told her the 'mystery flu' induced by the viral green had nearly killed him; had it been as bad as this? Worse…She knew he did not seek medical treatment during that illness, but that was probably because he was ordered to only utilize the medical facilities at the lab. His body was covered in sweat his pale blue shirt was dark blue from perspiration.

"Aaron," she called as she used the cloth to dab his face. Even with the fan and the cool rags he would never cool down enough to keep him from experiencing the more serious effects of a raging fever. Biting her lip she dropped the cloth on the pillow beside his head and grasped his shoulder. "Aaron, we need to get you out of these clothes."

Aaron opened fevered eyes and for a moment she could tell that he was there, the Aaron that had saved her in that money pit of a house, and she smiled as she pushed his short hair off his forehead. "Come on," she grasped his shoulder and urged him to sit up, "We need to get you out of these clothes."

"Always want my clothes off," He chuckled and his eyes sparkled with humor for a moment as he struggled to sit up. She realized that when Aaron concentrated he seemed more lucid, but when he was allowed to wander into his own thoughts he became more delirious.

Marta ignored him, he wouldn't remember any of her snappy rejoinders with this fever anyway, but she did roll her eyes. "Come on," she encouraged, "Up we go."

Once he was sitting unsteadily on the side of the small bed Marta began unbuttoning the soaked shirt while he watched her with the same intensity he always had in the laboratory. Reaching the last button Marta felt butterflies take flight in her belly. Aaron said they had met thirteen times at the lab, which meant she had seen him in many states of dress and undress. However, none of those times made her heart rate twist guiltily she opened his shirt and her eyes were drawn to the glimpses of his muscled chest.

If Aaron had not already opened her eyes to the dehumanization she had allowed herself to apply to him and the others. Then her reactions here would have highlighted the cold and methodical way she had perceived him while in the laboratory compared to the way her pulse thrummed at the sight of him here in the dimly lit hotel.

After all Aaron Cross was more than conventionally handsome and he had always had a way of watching that she had noticed. With a frown she pondered the fact that of all the subjects she had always felt an understated sort of exhilaration when 'Five' was in the lab. Perhaps, her less analytical side had taken notice of him even as her conscious mind relegated him to nothing more than an interesting test subject.

Marta looked at him, truly looked, for the first time without the veneer of science or the hysteria that surrounded them. His face had character, tiny imperfections that labeled him unique. His eyes were soulful eyes that spoke to her, now that she was listening, of a mysterious and safe place deep inside him that she found, surprisingly, that she would like to crawl inside and stay in.

Slowly, she raised her hands and rested them at the base of his throat allowing her thumbs to gently caress his chin. Looking into his fevered gaze she realized this is a man, a complex organism that she had willfully manipulated and altered as if she had the right to correct what God had created. Tears filled her eyes and Aaron reached up and clasped his fingers around her wrists.

"What's the matter, Doc?"

"You're not a number," she whispered and a fat tear rolled down her cheek to splash onto the back of his hand.

"Thank you," he repeated the words he had said to her when she hesitated over administering the viral blue. He lifted her hands to his mouth and pressed his lips to her palms, "Thank you." His eyes were grateful when he released her wrists and shrugged his shoulders letting his shirt slide off of his shoulders and with a little help from Marta he pulled his arms free.

The flesh beneath her fingers was hard with muscle and the sheen on his tanned skin only enhanced the feel of him under her fingers. Kneeling at his feet she quickly helped him remove his shoes and socks before she carefully reached for his belt.

Licking her lips she struggled to release the buckle, but sitting was not going to work, "Aaron," she murmured as she dropped her hands to his thighs. "I need you to stand."

No sooner did her words touch his ear than he was standing; it seemed the soldier in him was still alert. Taking a deep breath Marta stood up and began working on removing his trousers. Leaving his boxers in place she guided him to sit back down on the bed.

Once he was stretched out she dipped the washcloth into the basin and soaked it; not bothering to wring out the excess, but instead letting the water rain over his skin as she worked to cool him off.

It was nearly dawn when Aaron jerked awake once again surfacing from delirium to awareness as she applied a freshly moistened cloth to his face and neck. The look of fear and desperation on his face was frightening to behold but the words he was speaking paralyzed her with fear.

"There is fifty thousand dollars in the lining of my coat," he muttered as he grasped her knees urgently and leaned in to her trying to convey her need to leave. He was afraid he wasn't going to make it and she would have to watch him die. He did not want that for her. "Just take it and go you can make it."

"Shh," she shook her head as she pressed the cool cloth to the side of his throat. "No," she denied when he tried to reason with her using his fever induced logic. "No," she pressed her forehead to his shook her head while bathing his fevered skin.

They sat like that for a long time until he drifted off into an exhausted sleep and Marta gently guided him back onto the bed. Smoothing his sweat-spiked hair away from his face she quickly put a fresh damp cloth on his forehead and then stumbled to her own bed. It would be light in just an hour or two and she would need any rest she could get. She would go get medicine for him in the morning if he was not any better.

Turning onto her side so that she could see Aaron's profile Marta let her eyes slip closed. He would be better in the morning…He had to be.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: They'll Bring No Flowers

Author: Sidnea Blackstone

Summary: A discussion that should have happened, but didn't.

Aaron jerked to complete wakeful ness in an instant coming up on his arm to search the room for danger. The nightmare of his past was like a metronome in his head but it was the silence that woke him. Marta was gone and the room was completely still without her even breathing to lull his jagged senses. His eyes immediately moved to his jacket expecting to find the lining pulled out and his go-cash taken, like he told her to do. The sight of the Doc's neat handwriting across the piece of cardboard was such a welcome sight that he huffed out a breath before moving to sit on the side of the tiny cot.

Aaron rested there a few minutes while he assessed his wellbeing; the itch that had been present since Alaska was gone and even though his flesh still felt hot with fever the worst was over. It must have gotten bad if the Doc took the chance of going out alone. Aaron tried to remember what happened after the virus took him down for the count; he remembered telling her about the stash in his jacket and her refusal to leave him. She took care of him, that he knew, and her gentle ness was far more evident last night than at any time in the last four years. She held him and it felt…Right. So much like belonging that he had tried his damnedest not to fall asleep, but he had and she had moved to her own bed.

Standing up, Aaron ran a practiced eye around the room. Both beds had been slept in and it appeared she had watched over him as he slept. No one had ever watched over him, not even his own mother had given a damn about her son, the unwanted consequence of a night of drinking and unprotected sex. From an early age Aaron took care of all his needs; he dressed, cleaned and fed himself. The worst thing that had happened to him as a boy was the day he left for kindergarten in tattered, ill-fitting clothes and a social worker pulled him from class to tell him there had been an accident. The best thing, well the best until the Blues and Dr. Shearing, was the day he was accepted into the U.S. Army.

Moving to the sink Aaron stripped his boxers off and turned on the taps until a lukewarm gush of dirty looking water began to fill the sink. Poking the thin washcloth more firmly into the drain he glanced around until he found another rag lying limply beside his pillow. Turning off the water Aaron bent over his pack and pulled out a bar of soap. Soaping the cloth he began scrubbing away the salt and grime left by his bodies reaction to the virus. Once he was satisfied that his body was fresh he dressed.

It was as he looked at himself in the mirror that he made the decision to send Byer and the others a message. Finding the marker that Marta used to leave her note Aaron stared at the cloudy, silvered glass for a long time contemplating what he needed to say. The pill case that usually hung around his neck caught his attention and he pulled the chain up and let it dangle in front of him. This had been his crutch and leash, the chems inside it offering both freedom and slavery, but no more. With that thought in mind Aaron hung the chain from the corner of the mirror and uncapped the marker. In large letters in the dead-center of the mirror that obscured his features he wrote, 'NO MORE.'

"Aaron," Marta's desperate cry pierced his ear drum spiking adrenalin through his body, "Run!"

Moving to the window he watched as several local police officers took off in the direction Marta had gone. Damn it! She had given away her position to warn him; which was both incredibly brave and incredibly stupid thing for her to have done. Didn't she realize that even the force downstairs would have been decimated by his training? Moving quickly Aaron grabbed his jacket and backpack, in less than a minute he was out the door and on the way to the roof of the shabby building. By the time he burst through the door on the roof Aaron had donned both jacket and pack and in seconds he was racing along the bedraggled city's rooftops in the direction Marta had gone.

One good thing about the locals they made a hell of a lot of noise when they were after someone. Quickly changing direction when a woman began screaming for the police Aaron scaled a wall and ran along some conveniently placed rebar sticking out of the side of the building and using it as a launching point to cross the gulf between the two buildings. The downward slope worked to propel him across the pieced together gable in record time; shifting as he neared the edge he used his leg against the adjacent building to bring him to a jarring stop just short of falling off the eve of the building.

Below he could see Marta was trapped between two police officers studying the scene Aaron stood up and dropped down on the first of the officers. The sickening crunch of the man's clavicles and almost every other bone in the policeman's body as Aaron's weight hit him at a rate of acceleration of thirty-two feet per second, per second the man would most likely not leave this alley alive.

"Get down," he ordered as he leap-frogged over her and engaged the second police officer who was still in shock over what had happened to his fellow officer. It was easy to overpower the officer and end the conflict because they lacked two very important things—training and a well-honed desire to live.

"You okay," he offered the doctor his hand and helped her to her feet as she nodded, shell-shocked by all that had happened in the last few minutes, "Let's go!"

Coming out of the alley Aaron guided Marta to the right adjusting his grip to appear more of an embrace to passers-by as he studied the environment. The locals might have screwed the pooch by moving in early or maybe the powers-that-be had really terminated the program and there were no assets left to come for them, but Aaron was certain one was on the way if they had them. The whole shit storm that blew into their lives because of Bourne was beginning to really stink.

Aaron spotted an asset seconds after the headed across the catwalk. Well, that certainly answered that question. The escaped off the bridge by the skin of their teeth the doc was a brave woman and the trust she showed him was amazing as she allowed him to dangle her over the side of the bridge. Shucking his pack Aaron pushed it into Marta's hands and gave her a little push down the sidewalk, "Just keep walking and don't look around."

She nodded, clutching the bag to her chest. She looked stricken as she faced forward. Turning away Aaron hurried down the street looking for a vehicle; if he could not find one then he would have to face-off with the Asian man stalking them through the streets. He needed to keep the asset away from Dr. Shearing at all costs and if that meant taking him on in a close combat situation then so be it. If he were the asset he would go for the biggest threat first which meant he was probably tracking him right now. As Aaron passed a lot her heard a motorcycle roar to life and turned in time to see the owner walk away from the machine in seconds flat he was across the lot and speeding away, back toward Marta. When he caught up to her she was walking like a robot, her eyes were wide and didn't blink, as she continued along the walkway. It took him calling her several times to get her attention. The relief on her face when she turned to see him made his heart twinge guiltily. She must have thought he was abandoning her. "Got on," he ordered, handing her the helmet. "Put this on and hold tight!"

She quickly turned and he could see her mind zip back into play as she pulled the backpack on and straddled the bike behind him, "I thought," she murmured as she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on so tight she threatened to cut off his air supply.

"I know," he nodded as they headed into rush hour traffic. He did his best once the bullets started flying to keep the Doc out of the line of fire but it seemed to be mere luck that had the projectiles thunking into parked cars and buildings. The first bullet skimmed his left shoulder and Aaron nearly panicked with fear that Marta may have been hit as the bullet exited his shoulder. The second bullet lodging in his thigh took an immediate toll as he felt every bump and vibration of the bike.

However, the asset was still hard on their heels after being shot, car wrecked and thrown from his motorcycle so Aaron refused to allow injury to cost them their lives. The man after them did not seem fazed by the injuries he had received which begged the question of what kind of rat he was and Aaron made a mental note to ask Marta about the newest advancements in the science.

Skidding to a stop Aaron fired off a few more rounds at the terminator-like asset but nothing seemed to stop him.

"You're bleeding," Marta cried. He could hear shock and worry in her voice as she pressed a hand to the seeping wound, but they didn't have time to tend his hurts right now. He could already feel his body weakening from the one-two punch of the virus and blood loss.

"It'll be fine," Aaron assured her gruffly, "Hold on!"

Heading for the marina Aaron hoped like hell he would remain conscious long enough to get Marta out of this hell hole alive so that he could hunt down Bourne and see if he was up for a little payback. From the systematic way they came after the program participants and from the way the program heads were gunning for Marta and him it was obvious that they had not learned a damn thing from dealing with Bourne. And people had called him thick-headed Aaron had nothing on the rock-heads in charge of the program. Aaron now believed that the dogged determination to bury the program was behind Bourne's very public presence; they should have left him alone and they wouldn't be dealing with this very messy and very public backlash.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Not mine if they were mine.

AN: Thank you to everyone who has written a review or followed the story. This fandom deserves as many followers as is possible and I truly cannot wait to see the next Bourne film; these two have a huge story to tell. So, thank you for reading my small section of it.

"Aaron," Marta's fearful voice broke through the haze of the remaining fever and blood loss as his body finally came to rest on the rough cement and he felt her anxious tug on his wounded shoulder, "Aaron!"

Forcing his eyes open he saw her above him ripping the helmet from her head; dimly, Aaron was glad he had made her wear the protective covering. Even though their slide along the ground probably took its toll on her body, her beautiful, intelligent head had been protected.

"Help us," She cried taking his hand into her as she settled beside him, relieved to see him awake, Aaron twined their fingers together offering comfort. Was she talking to him? He felt as though his body was weighted down but he was hyper aware that the asset was still a few yards away. He needed to get her away from the area but he could barely move his arms. "Help us, please!"

Aaron let his eyes follow the path of Marta's eyes and was shocked to see a man with a small boy watching them. They must have had ring side seats to the motorcycle chase and collision. Struggling to sit up Aaron began speaking brokenly in the local dialect, "Help us, please, that man was trying to take my wife."

"Please," he repeated as Marta circled his shoulders with a supporting arm and struggled to hold him up, but the way she clung to him could only reinforce his story to the fisherman. Fumbling with his wrist Aaron pulled off the outrageously expensive watch that he had stripped from the Australian at the factory. "I have this watch," he held it up to the man; "Please I need to keep her safe."

It wasn't a farfetched idea and he could see that the man was aware of how probable the scenario of two wary travelers being accosted by slavers or even robbed for what treasures they might possess and as soon as he saw the richness of the watch the man was sold. They were rich Americans that had been targeted by unsavory characters and besides why shouldn't he help if the American was willing to pay, "I can only take you as far as Lubang."

"Anywhere," Aaron agreed as he struggled to his feet. "He has our wallets," he gestured toward the discarded ragdoll of an asset. Using the hand he still held Aaron pulled Marta to her feet and wrapped his arm about her waist. "We can't leave them."

"Of course," the man agreed and called his older son from the boat. "My son will take your motorcycle below deck."

Aaron nodded, turning to hobble with Marta's help over to the lifeless body of the man that had been sent to kill them. The twinge of pain that speared through his leg when he tried to kneel beside the man made his vision blur and a groan tear from his throat.

"Let me," Marta said, patting his stomach as she stepped away and waited to see that he would be able to stand on his own. Once he was secure, if a bit wobbly, on his feet she knelt down and began going through the asset's pockets and handing off everything she found. The man's jacket yielded a fully automatic handgun with two extra clips; which Aaron shoved into the back of his jeans, a cellphone that Aaron quickly disassembled and tossed into the water and a wallet carrying a good amount of local currency but no identification. "I think that is everything."

"Check his boots, Doc," Aaron advised, and then gestured to the jacket. "Feel around the lining, too. The Brass doesn't train us to create exit strategies that include ditching them, but we all do it. I don't think any of us expect to just be able to walk away when we're done."

"Okay," she nodded as she searched the jacket and came up empty. It was difficult for her he could tell because the man's left leg was a mass of splintered bone stick out of his pants leg like jagged peaks, but she donned her scientific mask and searched his boot finding a wicked looking blade in a leather scabbard with a thick hilt etched with jots and tittles. "That's everything."

"Good," he praised, "Put the knife in the pack and let's go," Aaron held out his hand to her and she trustingly grasped it and stood up, wrapping her arms around his waist and letting him lean heavily on her shoulders. It took less than ten minutes from crash to setting sail on the dilapidated boat, but it felt as if they had taken too long, as if they had given the satellites too long to track the area.

The man was obviously smart because they had no sooner stepped down onto the deck than the older boy was casting off and the boat was heading for the mouth of the North Harbor out into Manila bay. The teen gestured for them to come with him so Aaron and Marta followed him down into the cramped bowels of the boat.

"You and the…be good here…small but nice…Yeah?" The boy jabbered constantly in his language and Aaron was only able to piece together bits and pieces as darkness began to edge around his mind; obviously, he was about to be down for the count.

When they arrived at a door the boy opened it and gestured for them to enter. His younger sibling was inside hastily packing his personal items and when they teen saw that he had not finished yet he yelled at the boy and nudged him toward the door. The room was lit with weak light from the dirty portal glass and it was barely large enough to hold the tiny bed and a small night stand.

As soon as the boys left, closing the door behind them, Aaron began to sink to the floor, but Marta stopped him, "Oh, no you don't! I won't be able to lift you," she murmured as she guided him to the small bed situated against the hull.

He didn't sit on the small cot so much as fall into it, like a lead weight, bringing the good doctor down with him. Caught by surprise Marta couldn't catch herself and her knee connected painfully with his still bleeding thigh and ripping a surprised gasp from his lips.

"Sorry," she whispered, horrified. "I'm sorry."

"It is okay, Doc, barely hurt." He tried to assure her but his words were slurred and then he passed out.

Aaron slowly became aware and let his senses take stock of his surroundings before he opened his eyes. The room was warm and humid and the bed he lay upon was rocking gently back and forth; the boat he realized. A quiet, pained inhalation to his right caught his sensitive hearing and his mind burst to alertness.

"Doc," he murmured, turning his head and opening gritty eyes.

She startled at the sound of his voice but didn't turn to look at him. She was standing beside the small table, in nothing but her underwear, gingerly cleaning the grated skin at the back of her right arm. Letting his eyes assess the damage he was shocked at the livid marks that covered her arm and lower back. Her jeans had held up to the trip across the pavement but even so, her entire body was one massive contusion. Her shirt had done very little to protect her pale flesh and the abraded skin was dirty and weeping.

"Let me," Aaron murmured gruffly sitting up as his mind cataloged her injuries. He maneuvered to sit on the edge of the cot and reached for the cloth she was rinsing in a large bowl sitting on the table. Beside the water were a half-used bottle of peroxide, bloody gauze and a tube of antibiotic cream all with Asian labels.

Glancing nervously over her good shoulder Marta caught his gaze, "You should stay still."

"I'm fine," he gestured to the bandage wrapped neatly around his thigh. "I'm not going to run a race, Doc; I just want to make sure that gets cleaned out good. Only one of us is allowed to have an infection at once and since I got dibs on that one with the virus…"

"Really," she smiled a little as she rolled her teary eyes at him, "When was that rule made?"

"Just now," he said as he patted the cot beside him. "Come here."

"Okay," she nodded; turning away from him she dropped the cloth into the bowl of water. Taking a deep breath Marta wrapped her left arm over her chest before turning to take the two steps over to the bed. Aaron's eyes flicked over her face and down over her chest with a strange intensity as he noted every bruise and scrap. Marta avoided his eyes and the blush on her cheeks reached nearly to her belly button when he scooted over and ordered her to sit in an oddly gentle voice. Licking her lips as she settled beside him, Marta let her gaze meet his.

"Turn around, Doc," Aaron murmured, raising his right hand and softly tucking her hair behind her ear. Marta studied his soulful eyes for what seemed a long time before she shifted offering him her back. He was relieved to find the abrasion was just superficial and would with any luck heal quickly and completely.

"Is it bad," she asked, and he could hear the fear in her voice. Seeking to reassure her he cupped her good shoulder with his calloused fingers and without forethought pressed his lips to her shoulder blade. They both seemed to freeze in that moment, but Aaron quickly got back to the business at hand.

"No," he murmured as he reached for the cloth, "But this is gonna hurt like hell, Doc."

"It already does," she hissed as she felt him begin the indelicate task of cleaning dirt and grit from the abused skin. By the time he was finished getting the dirt and grime from the wound Marta half lay across the tiny bed with her face buried in the pillow to muffle her cries. As quickly as he could Aaron covered the wound with antibiotics and covered it with fresh gauze.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as set aside the medical supplies and ran a comforting hand up and down her thigh, "It is over now; I am all done,"

Feeling drained emotionally because in helping her he had to hurt her Aaron's physical strength began to wane. Reaching for his pack he pulled out one of his t-shirts and carefully guided Marta up and helped her pull it on. His fever was almost gone, but the toll the last two days had taken on his body was immense.

They both needed rest. Finding the assets gun Aaron checked the clip and made sure the safety was on before tucking it between the head of the bed and the wall. Aaron lay down on his right side facing the door and maneuvered Marta around until she was lying on her left side, facing him. The pillow beneath his head was wet with her tears and Aaron wasn't sure how he felt about that; all he knew was that they both hurt and they both needed sleep.

They lay like that, stiffly, for a few minutes while Marta searched his eyes for the answer to some unasked question. She must have found whatever it was she needed to find because Marta scooted closer and pressed her face into his shoulder and wrapping her arm about his waist. Aaron frowned for a moment and struggled with where to place his hand so as not to hurt or alarm her before letting it rest on her hip.

With a shuddering sigh Marta relaxed and they both settled into Morpheus' tender grasp.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a relatively short two day ride to Lubang, but the fisherman, Bayani, was taken with Marta and was easily persuaded to allow them to stay, the motorcycle came in handy on that score, as he made his usual circuitous route. Besides with Aaron helping they were pulling in more of a hardy catch even fever weakened he was an extremely hard worker.

Three days out from Lubang and it was moving day again; so, the boat was chugging along at a pretty surprisingly fast clip for such a ragged looking vessel. They were skimming along the South China Sea and if Aaron was right they were just coming up on the Calamianes group of islands.

"Ruey," Aaron called the boy down from the upper deck, "Can you get me the other map?" The boy nodded enthusiastically and took off for the wheelhouse like a spider monkey. Aaron sighed, the kid made it look so easy, but Aaron knew how much work moving like that really was, at least for an adult.

Letting his eyes play over the cloth covered aft deck, Aaron told Bayani the cloth was to protect Marta's delicate skin, but really it was so they could be on deck without fear of a random satellite zooming in on them. So, they were relatively safe to gaze out over the seemingly empty ocean. Aaron was considering their options.

It was a surprisingly easy thought that they should just get lost and forget about the government chasing after them. Just settle like Tarzan and Jane in one of the many jungles skidding by to the east; that thought made Aaron smile. They could spend their days in bathing suits being lazy in a hammock. It had been a surprise for him how well he slept with the good doctor beside him; that wasn't something he had ever done before. Sure he had sex with his fair share of women, but that was after the program and love was the big-bad, top of the list of don'ts. He never stayed and sleep was the last thing on his mind at the time.

Truth be told, now, Aaron stayed awake a little longer each night just holding the Doc as he enjoyed the soft press of her breasts against his chest or the feel of her bare legs tangled with his. Sharing the tiny bed, feeling her breathing next to him was exhilarating. It would be so easy to just become James and June Monroe, but what he had found in the hilt of the assets knife chilled him. No matter what they did in the short term, in the long term he would have to see that program to its end. If Outcome was morally indefensible, then whatever program created the asset in Manila was its dishonorable cousin. Did Byer even know what sort of monster they created in that man; were there more like him? God forbid!

Ruey dropped onto the deck, bringing Aaron out of his darkening thoughts, and bounded over to him handing over the map. Aaron thanked him and unrolled the laminated paper tossing a flat stone onto the top edge to hold it open. Marta came above deck as he laid the protractor on the map. Glancing up Aaron smiled, she was still wearing his black tee shirt and that was pleasing to him.

"Hey," he greeted as she sidled up to the table. She looked good her face glowed, she looked alive and Aaron thought she looked happy as he went back to pinpointing their exact location.

"Hey," she murmured as she settled in her seat and leaned over the table, slightly toward him. "We lost?"

"No," he answered, keeping his eyes on the map, "Just looking at our options."

"Hmm," she nodded, "I was kinda hoping we were lost."

Hearing her words Aaron smiled; maybe he wasn't the only one fantasizing about a hammock slung between two trees in the middle of a sparsely populated rainforest. Meeting her hopeful gaze Aaron nodded; they could afford to be lost for a little while. Especially after everything she had been through in the last few days. Harsh reality could wait a little while. Rolling the map up with a decided flourish he shoved it aside and leaned into the table to look at Marta with the speculative gaze he had always used in the lab, but this time she noticed it.

"How lost do want to be, Doc?"

"I don't know," She glanced away shyly for a moment, as she spoke, before sliding her hand over his with a blush on her cheeks and a smile that could outshine the sun. "How lost can we get?"

"Well," he grinned as he turned his hand over and allowed his finger tips to caress her palm making her shiver. "There is lost for a few hours; which could be nice or there is hopelessly lost."

"What is the difference," She asked and he watched her eyes flare with heat as he traced his middle finger in a circular pattern on her palm.

"Being lost, for a few hours, is limited by time," he explained, "It would be fun, incredible and short lived."

"Obviously," she nodded, rolling her eyes. He could tell she was aware of what he wasn't saying so he continued with his metaphor.

"Being hopelessly lost would entail not surfacing again," he told her seriously, "Becoming new people, living their lives and never looking back."

She had a wistful face when she dropped her eyes to their joined hands and he could tell that she was tempted by that one, but when she met his gaze again he knew what she would say next. It was the same thing he had been thinking since they discovered the mini SD card in that knife.

"That sounds like a plan," she murmured, "but we can't do that can we? Is there a median; what would that be like?"

He was proud of her. She was choosing the difficult road and not the more desirable easy way out. Marta was a warrior even though she thought he was lying to bolster her courage. It was her that defeated that thing, created by the government, masquerading as a man.

Reaching across the table Aaron tucked a stray curl behind her ear letting his fingers caress her cheek as he pulled away. "The median," he murmured gruffly. "That would be lost and found. We could get lost and be those other people for a little while but then we would have to set them aside to finish it. They can't finish what was started, but we can."

"You talk as if they wouldn't be us," she huffed, getting up and leaning over the railing.

"Those people would be our safety net," he pushed out his chair and went to stand behind her. Gently, pulling her back to his chest he murmured close to her ear, "If…When we do this it is going to be dirty. There is no telling how many of them there are, it might take a long time, but we have to cut the head off the snake. If it goes bad I want you to have a place that is insular to escape to and an identity that doesn't just pop-up out of nowhere. She will be someone with a past and a future."

"And once we cut the head of that snake," she asked, and he could hear the tremble of tears in her voice. "What happens when we succeed only to find it has grown two more?"

He wished he could say that they would walk away, but they both loved their country too much for that. Dropping his head to her shoulder he said, "We're warriors, Doc."

He felt her take a deep breath before she whispered, "Then let's get lost," as she turned in his arms. Her face was tear streaked, but she had a determined look in her eyes as she reached up and curled one hand at the nape of his neck and cupped his face with the other. He snaked his arms around her hips and pulled her against him as her lips found his.

THE END

Continued in THE ART OF BEING LOST


End file.
